


A Game For Fools

by saturni_stellis



Category: Independence Day (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Makeup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:34:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21956719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saturni_stellis/pseuds/saturni_stellis
Summary: The origins of the "Okun-Laser"
Relationships: Milton Isaacs/Brackish Okun
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	A Game For Fools

Milton didn’t get angry. He never raised his voice, never lost his temper, but he got moody. It was always for good reason. A particularly stressful day might get him down, but a good sleep or a warm meal would put him right again.

His patience was sometimes tested with Brackish, like when he got over-excited and ignored safety protocol. Over the years, Milton learned how to get around him and how best to deal with him. They found their happy middle ground together.

Milton didn’t like people breaking their promises. He put his utmost trust in the people he held dear to him, Brackish being top of that list. He asked Brackish, specifically—not because he was being controlling or overbearing but because he was worried for his safety—not to go ahead with testing the laser he was so intent on building. And it wasn’t only Brackish’s safety at stake, it was the other staff members’ too. So Milton made Brackish promise, and it took him a while to come around.

But, eventually, he did.

“Okay! Okay, I promise. I won’t test the laser.”

And that was that.

A week later, Milton was called to Sector 3 unexpectedly because one of the staff members couldn’t walk to sick bay due to—and Milton’s heart sank when he heard it—laser burns on the backs of his shins.

“How did this happen?” Milton asked, already knowing the answer.

The staff member, Dr. Feldman, a relatively new addition to Sector 3 compared to those who were jokingly considered part of the furniture, looked sheepish. Milton could imagine the conversation between this young man and Area 51’s director.

“Whatever happens, do not tell Dr. Isaacs we tried this!”

Milton didn’t wait for an answer. He tended the wound as best he could, asking his medical team to take the patient to sick bay once his pain relief kicked in. Still in his scrubs, he marched down to where he knew Brackish and his team would be. His suspicions were confirmed when he saw the laser, unveiled and smoking, its fumes filling the lab.

“All right, well, let’s evacuate for now and try again next week once Zeller figures out those new configurations—” Brackish stopped mid-sentence when he saw Milton standing in the doorway, their eyes meeting across the lab. He cleared his throat, but before he could speak, Milton turned on his heels and left.

*

At lunch, Milton sat alone in the cafeteria, a copy of the New Scientist open beside his neatly plated tuna sandwich. Brackish slid onto the bench next to him.

“Let me explain…”

Milton snatched his magazine from the table. “Don’t bother.”

Brackish was taken aback, but he pressed on quickly. “Zeller said he’d configured it so the crystals were perfectly aligned. We thought it was fool proof.”

Milton didn’t want to make a scene. Not here. Not now. And not like this. Nevertheless, he slammed the magazine on the table, making Brackish jolt in his seat. Regret was already setting in at his outburst, but Milton had to hold his nerve. He wasn’t letting Brackish get away with this, no matter how much he hated being angry at him.

“I said I didn’t wanna hear it, okay? You made a promise, and you broke it. Save your apology for Feldman. He’s got third degree burns on his legs.”

Brackish’s mouth hung open. Milton was almost certain that if they weren’t in public, tears would’ve brimmed in his eyes. The thought of making him cry made Milton’s heart sink, so he got up and left him with the remains of his lunch.

*

Milton stayed late in the office on purpose. He did his rounds and visited the labs to check his experiments until his colleagues told him there was nothing else to do and that perhaps he should go and get some rest. Milton surrendered and made his way back to his quarters.

In the bedroom, Brackish lay curled up on the bedcovers holding his knees, looking much smaller than usual. As Milton turned on the bedside lamp, Brackish stirred and rolled over. His eyes were pink, a sign he’d been crying not long before he’d fallen asleep. Milton’s heart sank again. He was still hurt, still angry, but too tired for an argument. He remained as stone-faced as he could.

“It’s really late,” Brackish said, his voice as small as he looked.

Milton loosened his tie as he sat on the edge of bed, his back to Brackish. As he unfastened the first few buttons of his shirt, a hand pawed at the small of his back.

“I’ll never do it again.”

“Do what?”

“Break a promise. You were right. It was too dangerous.”

Milton said nothing. He continued calmly removing his clothes. There wasn’t much he could say to change what had happened.

“Look… if you wanna end it, I’ll understand. I’ll—” Brackish’s voice broke and Milton turned to look at him.

“End it? Baby, I don’t wanna end it.”

Brackish sniffled. He was still curled up like a shy kitten afraid of unfurling. “I’m so sorry!” he sobbed, words blurting out and merging into a long, pained noise. Wiping the tears wetting his cheeks, he started rambling. “I feel so guilty, baby. And poor Feldman! I wish I’d listened to you. I wish you didn’t hate me now… It was so stupid. I’m so stupid!”

Milton took Brackish’s wrist and pulled him closer, turning on the bed to wrap him in his arms. Something about the way he’d been bunched up on the bed made him want to protect him.

“Brackish, come on…” He wasn’t annoyed by his crying. Well, he was annoyed by the reason they existed, but he still hated seeing Brackish this upset. He wanted Brackish to be okay; that was the whole point of making him promise in the first place. Instead of telling him that, he wiped his thumb over Brackish’s cheek and kissed it softly.

“You were pretty stupid baby,” Milton said. Before Brackish could retort, Milton kissed his lips. “I’m tired. Let’s just go to sleep, okay?”

Brackish sniffled, nodding, letting Milton pull him into his arms again as they lay back on the bed.

“You don’t still hate me?”

“I never hated you…” Milton said, his voice laced with sleep.

Brackish held him tighter, lifting his head to kiss his cheek.

They’d talk about it properly tomorrow. For now, Milton was happy to have Brackish sleeping beside him, safe and unhurt. And he knew, deep down, that Brackish would never break a promise to him again.


End file.
